"Dammit! James, you bastard!" Max cursed, his voice cracking. He felt as if his entire pride had been ground into the dust.
Ignoring Sofia, who was calling out to him in a hoarse voice, Max turned on his heel and half-ran toward the men's VIP restroom. Once inside, he slammed the door shut, locked it, and splashed his face with ice-cold water.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror, then frantically yanked his phone from his pocket.
"I have a target. He just left the central convention center. Name’s James. I want you to intercept him before he gets away. Break his legs!"
"Understood, Young Master. How many men do you want?"
"Take ten men! Bring weapons! He’s with a male assistant and some slut. Crush them all!" Max hung up. His breath was coming in ragged gasps, and a manic smile
